Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

"Dean--!"

"Either put on makeup or shave your legs, choose one."

Sam closed his eyes.

The sensation of the powder puff on his face gave him goosebumps.

Dean's movements were surprisingly skillful: foundation, concealer, eyeliner. When Sam opened his eyes and looked in the mirror, the person in the mirror made him pause for a moment.

The wig concealed his facial features, eyeliner made his eyes appear larger, and a mask covered the lower half of his face.

Looking at the reflection in the mirror, it does indeed resemble a taller woman.

“Now for the main event.” Dean picked up the razor and shaving cream.

Sam's expression froze: "You're kidding."

“The dragon might observe closely.” Dean squeezed out a wad of white shaving lubricant foam. “Your arms and calves, Mr. Winchester, smoothness is a basic requirement.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Sam experienced the most bizarre moment of his demon-hunting career.

The sensation of the razor shaving his skin made his muscles tense, but Dean hummed an old rock song, his technique as skilled as a professional beautician.

After shaving and applying lotion, Sam finally couldn't help but ask, "Where did you learn all this?"

“One summer I staked out a shapeshifter in Ohio that only attacked beauty salon employees,” Dean shrugged. “I spent three days pretending to be a shampoo girl and learned a lot.”

Continue putting on your clothes.

Sam insisted on wearing the white stockings himself, followed by a gold necklace and bracelet, all gold-plated items bought from a local jewelry store.

Finally, Dean pulled out a pair of white low-heeled leather shoes: "Size 37, you'll have to make do."

Sam stared at the shoes: "I wear size 43."

"That's why I said I'd make do."

"It's hard to find such a large size for women's shoes."

"Fine," Sam resigned himself to his fate.

When he finally stood up, the room fell silent for a few seconds.

Dean stroked his chin and walked around him, nodding: "If you ignore his height and frame, he's alright! Remember to keep your distance when you walk, don't look like a Marine on patrol."

“I want to punch you right now,” Sam said.

"We'll talk about it after the mission is complete." Dean stuffed a dagger into Sam's briefcase. "Hide it in a hidden compartment. Remember, you're bait, not a warrior. When the dragon appears, try to stall for time. I'll follow."

Sam took a deep breath, adjusted his wig, and pushed open the door.

The eastern part of the town of Erwin was filled with an atmosphere of decay at night.

The factory windows in the old industrial area are broken like empty eye sockets, half of the streetlights are not working, and the only light source comes from the pale fluorescent light of the 24-hour convenience store sign in the distance.

Sam carried his bag and walked slowly along the sidewalk.

The sound of high heels clicking on the ground was exceptionally clear in the silence.

His muscle memory made him want to take big strides, but he had to restrain himself and imitate the way Joanna walked in his memory, taking small steps with a slight sway of his hips.

Fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead beneath the wig, partly from nervousness and partly from the suffocating feeling of being dressed like that.

As he walked through the third block, he felt someone watching him.

It's not a dragon, it's a human.

A figure emerged from the shadows at the alley entrance.

This was a young Black man, wearing a baggy hoodie and jeans, with a cigarette between his fingers. He stared at Sam for a few seconds and whistled.

Sam quickened his pace.

"Hey, beautiful." The young man followed, his voice carrying a deliberately casual, slick tone, "So late, all alone?"

Sam didn't answer, he just walked faster.

But the high heels limited his speed, and the young man soon kept pace with him.

"Relax, I mean no harm." The young man grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "I just noticed you're alone. This area isn't safe. A girl went missing here last week, you know?"

Sam stopped. He needed to determine whether this was just an ordinary thug or someone connected to dragons.

He tilted his head slightly and observed out of the corner of his eye.

The young man didn't have any supernatural aura; his heart was beating slightly faster, and his pupils were slightly dilated. He might have been on drugs, or he might simply be excited.

“I don’t need company,” Sam said in a low voice, trying to soften his tone.

“Don’t be like that.” The young man leaned closer, and Sam smelled a mixture of marijuana and cheap cologne. “Look, I know a good place, we can…”

He put his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam shuddered, goosebumps rose on his skin, and he clenched his fists in his bag.

Muscle memory is screaming for a quick counterattack; an over-the-shoulder throw or an elbow strike to the Adam's apple could render this guy incapacitated within three seconds.

But he can't.

Dean's plans, the missing girls, the dragon's lair—he must endure it.

The young man's other hand slid towards Sam's waist, his breathing becoming heavy: "You've got a great body, you know, just a bit...muscular?"

“But I like strong ones, it’s a healthy look, and I also like the feeling of my head being clamped between my legs.” The young Black man’s actions became increasingly audacious.

Sam's knuckles were white from clenching them.

He quickly scanned his surroundings. Dean should be watching from somewhere nearby, but he couldn't see him at the moment. The young man's fingers hooked onto his belt buckle.

Just as Sam was about to abandon his disguise and prepare to make his move, new footsteps sounded.

Heavy, slow, like a heavy hammer striking the ground.

Another figure emerged from the shadows.

Tall, exceptionally tall, Sam was estimated to be over two meters tall. He was also Black, but his physique was as robust as a professional wrestler.

He was wearing dirty work pants and a vest, his bare arms were muscular and his skin had a strange dark red glow in the dim light.

Sam's demon-hunting instincts immediately went off.

This is definitely not an ordinary person; their body temperature is high, and you can feel the heat even if they are standing three meters away.

My heartbeat is slow and strong, not exceeding forty beats per minute.

And that aura!

"Get out of here," the big man said, his voice low and rough like the grinding of rocks.

The young man who had approached her paused for a moment, then puffed out his chest: "Dude, this has nothing to do with you—! I spotted this girl first."

The big guy moved.

His movements were faster than human limits. The young black man didn't even see how he moved. He only heard a muffled thud, and the young man who had struck up the conversation flew out like a rag doll, crashing into a brick wall across the street.

Then it slid to the ground and remained motionless.

Then the large hand grabbed Sam's shoulder.

It was scorching hot, like holding a piece of red-hot iron.

Sam groaned, a burning pain shooting through his skin. He tried to resist, but the big man's strength was terrifying; the pressure from just his fingers made his shoulder blades crack.

"Quiet," the big man whispered, covering Sam's mouth and nose with his other hand.

This wasn't a human hand; beneath the skin, Sam could feel a scaly texture.

The next second, the world spun around.

The giant's body began to swell and deform, his work pants tore, dark red scales appeared on his skin, his spine bent and stretched, and fleshy bulges appeared on his shoulder blades, but he did not fully unfold into wings.

His head was elongated, his mouth and nose protruded forward, and his fiery golden eyes shone in the darkness.

Incomplete dragonification; this is a hybrid.

It grabbed Sam with its claws, which had turned into scales, and leaped up with its legs.

It wasn't flying, but a powerful leap that crossed the entire street in one bound and landed on the roof of the factory across the street.

Then he jumped again. (End of Chapter)